The Closet Door Is Opening
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: I hate how I do this to myself. .:. one-sided Dave/Kurt. musings in Dave's head. set after events of NBK. rated T for swearing and brief mentions of sexual action.


**A/N: A little drabble. It won't leave my brain. XD**

**In Dave's POV.**

**Mood music: 'Song To Say Goodbye' by Placebo.**

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A fucking door has _opened._

The barrier has been_ broken_, and light is pouring in.

And it fucking _terrifies _the living _shit_ outta me.

When you're in that retarded proverbial "closet," you never wanna fucking leave. Leaving is, like, the worst thing you can do. But what the fuck can you do, when that door swings wide open and you're left staring out at what you can have?

One action. One stupid-ass move, and it was all over for me. And I knew it. And I did it anyway. My parents and my school and my rep and my very _self _be damned. I wanted to do it, okay? I fucking _craved_ that forbidden fruit, and in that act, the door opened and now all I can see is _him_ standing outside of it, waiting for me to join him.

And I _want_ to. The closet is dark and damn frightening! No one wants to be so g'damn deep in the closet that they've got one foot in Narnia. And the irony is, Narnia was meant to be a g'damn_ religious_ book. You know that? I sure as hell didn't, not at first. But yeah. Aslan, that lion? Yeah, he's like supposed to be Jesus or some shit.

But I digress.

Point is, here I am, staring at him feeling so lost I might as well give up. I should give up my straight façade, give up my jock rep, give up my friends. What kind of friends are they anyhow? They're fucking _bullies!_ G'damn _bullies_ who wouldn't spare two cents to anybody remotely related to a fag. And yet they have a secret one in their group. What sort of living is that, I ask you? NONE. I know, believe me.

So I'm left staring blankly. I've been in this damn closet so long I don't even know if I can find my way past the bullshit clothing racks and thick coats and miscellaneous boxes to find my way out.

But _he's_ on the other side, I have to remember. Hummel. Kurt Hummel. The only out kid at our school, and the only person I've ever wanted.

Like, _really for truly _wanted. I desire him the way most people pray for their perfect soul mate or whatever. I might even love him –

But once again, I digress.

Point is, _I want out. _I want to come out so badly it physically aches. I want to cry, it puts me under so much strain.

I kissed him. I know I shouldn't have, and I shouldda waited or something until I was, I dunno, out of high school and into my own life and away from my parents and just plain _free, _but _fuck,_ how could I wait?

How could I, when he was _right there, so damn close, and smelling so damn delicious and looking so flushed and angry and hot –_

Dammit!

I really hate myself sometimes. And I hate that g'damn door, wide open like that, the first step in opening it and emerging being taken the second I kissed him. And the retarded, pathetic part? I really don't regret it.

I… _enjoyed_ it. For once, it didn't feel like a lie; it always had before whenever I kissed or fucked a girl, only getting it up in the first place because I pretended her high-pitched moans were _his._ And I always did go for the more flat-chested girls…

It almost feels like a relief now that he knows, and now that he's waiting to see what I'll do. I know he's waiting because one of the first things he does is drag that dickwad from that private school over… somewhere… to "talk" to me. It pissed me off, though, because what if that dick is Kurt's little boyfriend? And I dislike that idea, 'cause _I _want Kurt for myself.

Am I digressing again? Whatever. Fuck it.

Basically: I'm a jerk. I'm secretly as gay as they come, minus the girly clothing and crap. I'm in the closet because of my school and my family. I think I might more than "like" Kurt Hummel. And I really want to stop all the bullying; it just doesn't do it for me anymore. I feel guilty now. And even though the shoves are an excuse to touch him, nothing can erase what happened in the locker room and I _know_ that. I fucking _know_ all too well.

Because now, my obsession is worse. I want him more. I want to feel his lips on mine again, I want him to _reciprocate,_ I want him to smile at me like he does his friends and that dickweed, and I want to hold him and never let go because dammit all, he should be _mine_. I want to belong. Not in school anymore. Just… with him. I want to belong in his world, since up until that incident when I caved, I had always been his enemy.

Fuck my life. I shouldn't feel this way about another dude, let alone _him. _But I do, and I've got to stop kidding myself about it.

And so I take a step forward. I'm still in the closet, but at least the distance between in and out is growing shorter.


End file.
